


I’m His, and vice versa

by kuro49



Series: from New York with love [5]
Category: Suits (TV), White Collar
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, White Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:04:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike meets Burke the Jerk. (And Neal's heart goes <i>thump</i>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m His, and vice versa

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of the return of both shows, I’ve finally serialized my White Suits fics for easier reading. This is also the point where it diverges from canon of both series (not that it was all that related to canon anyway.)

He doesn’t know how he finds out but at a certain point in their past, some point rather early on might he add, Mike has learned not to ask questions and to simply accept that Neal will find out either way.

Mikes sees him from the podium first, and he is in an immaculate black suit and a matching trilby held over his heart, still the same striking man Mike has known before they both became someone else. Mike doesn’t choke and braves on, smile soft and melancholy even softer behind the sorrow in his tears wet eyes.

Unlike Neal however, Mike has never been good with people and it all comes out a little mangled and heartbreaking.

 

“I didn’t expect you.” Mike says when the small crowd has dwindled down to stray old ladies still sitting in the first row and the closed coffin is surrounded by her favourite flowers.

“I’m sorry.” And Neal looks as though he wants to draw him into a hug, they are standing close enough to touch. In the end, he settles with smiling a small little thing that strains and says again, “I’m so sorry, Mike.”

Mike nods with a thick swallow and there is a short pause before he is leaning forward to rest his forehead against the crook of Neal’s shoulder. He only lets out a soft sigh when Neal places a hand on the small of his back. And like two negatives coming together to form a positive, there is no con between them, just a man standing before a friend in a time of need.

 

“Ne—”

The man stops in mid-sentence as Mike lifts his head up and Neal is nearly startled into taking a step back. Still, he manages to make it look as though he is only quirking his head back in a careful calculated measure.

“A friend?” Mike asks with a slight tilt of his chin at the man that walks in, authority in the lines of his shoulders that only the Feds have, something that Mozzie has been keen to teach.

And it is almost worth it all to see the small burst of panic in the way Neal hesitates to smile before he replies, “sort of.”

“I’m his handler, FBI: White Collar Division.”

Neal glances sharply to Peter (and his _I’m his_ that sparks more joy in Neal’s chest than he cares to note the danger to) before offering a small grimace on top of the layers and layers of apologies and lousy pretence. “This is Peter.”

Mike pretends he doesn’t know Neal’s tell, pretends he can’t see the swell of emotion behind that conman front. He watches as his old friend turns to grumble at the federal agent. “I thought I told you to give me twenty.”

Peter rolls his eyes but they can all see him survey their surroundings, focus near razor sharp as he categorizes all that there is, Mike himself very much included.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mike.” He tries unsuspecting and near naïve and considering how many times it has worked on Harvey, he supposes it can’t go too bad in this situation. Not that he isn’t already on Burke-the-Jerk’s list of Neal’s possible accomplices.

Still it is worth a try.

“Peter Burke, and… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I’m too.” He replies, heart clenching in his chest at the sight of Grammy still in the photograph. The devastation is nearly enough to send him crashing into a nearby chair except Neal is wrapping his arms around him, this time a little firmer than the last.

“Let’s have dinner, Mike. My treat.”

“What’s your radius even?” Mike blinks back tears to muster a half smile, slow amusement showing when he pulls back from the hug. Neal grins and holds up two fingers like this is a victory worthy enough to gloat, “2 miles.”

“The FBI is generous with you, Neal.” Mike says, impressed.

“Only because Peter loves me.”

And Mike wants to laugh when Peter chokes in the face of Neal’s fearless statement.

XXX Kuro


End file.
